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I’m meditating in a Boise coffee shop because I’m not writing well my thoughts are a smeary slide full of animalcules contained, self-important images that could fit into a list-poem full of suggestions that dares the reader to link meanings

I was strolling along one sunny morn, Didn’t quite realise when she left me; I kept walking on, Not knowing she wasn’t following me. In this world she would be but a misfit, For she possessed the caprice of innocence;